Nail Polish
by samantha-darling
Summary: 30 is the new 25! *set between 2x18-19*


"How is it possible for one girl to have so many bottles of nail polish?" Nick asked her, standing in awe of her collection currently strewn across the coffee table in the living room. Jess looked up quickly from her handiwork, making sure to keep her fingers straight and her wet nails away from anything that might smudge them.

"You just kind of...hoard them, I guess. They last a long time." Maybe she did have too many. There was still another full shoebox underneath her bed. Not to mention a few of her favorites in her top desk drawer. And a couple of emergency ones she had stashed in the bathroom. But what did that matter? Nail polish was cheap and a great way to accessorize. Or a good way to waste a Saturday night by yourself in your loft. Because everyone else in the world was doing something. She sighed and joined Nick in surveying the mess.

"Like they don't have an expiration date?" He asked. She shook her head, inspecting a bottle with a startling color of yellow inside. It was a silly question, really. Then again, Nick could be pretty silly. Jess glanced over at him once more. He looked like a frightened gazelle, hovering between the couch and his room, looking as if he wasn't sure whether to run for it or sit down. Really, it was just a bit of nail polish, barely fifty bottles. Nick must have noticed her somewhat perplexed frown. They regarded each other warily for a moment or two before she shook her head, her pig tails brushing back and forth on her shoulders.

"No, they don't. Are you going to work?"

"Unfortunately, no. I switched shifts with someone." In the end, he did sit down, but he made sure to angle his body away from the mess before him like it would give him cooties. Jess pushed her glasses up at him. His company was better than being alone, but not if he was just going to act like a boy all night. Even she had her limits.

"Oh. That was nice of you."

"I owed him one."

"So are you going out then?" On the surface, it was nothing more than an innocent question. In all honesty, she was trying to gauge how the rest of her night would go. Dirty Dancing was already in the DVD player, but Nick wouldn't sit and watch it with her. Not for the fiftieth time. That would more than likely fuel an argument about what to watch instead, which would only end one one or the other retreated to their bedroom for the remainder of the night. If he relented, there were two bottles of Pink Moscato in the refrigerator waiting to be opened. Nick would gladly join her in drinking, but not without teasing her about drinking something so innately girly, which would more than likely spin off into a scuffle over who was more masculine than the other. The last time they had gotten onto the subject, she'd challenged him to an arm wrestling match, and they'd both sprained their wrists.

"Nah, I'm still a little Tinfinitied out. You?" They both already knew the answer to that question. She tried not to notice the way his mouth upturned a bit at her mismatched flannel pajamas, hot pink tutu, and banana slippers. The banana slippers were a bridesmaid gift from Cece. So was the tutu. It was rude not to use gifts, especially such awesome ones as these. Jess picked a bit at her tutu with her dry nails.

"Maybe later." She answered a bit defiantly, crossing her arms and surveying her mess once more. There was a moment of silence before she looked up at Nick. He was trying hard not to smile, hiding his mirth behind a hand and feigned interest in the wedding dress show currently playing. At first it kind frustrated her. It could be true. It was only 8:30, still early for a Saturday night. But then she realized what she was wearing and what she was doing and how single she was and she laughed. It was quiet, just a giggle. Which made Nick crack a little too. Before she knew it, they were both laughing.

"You're not going out are you?"

"Absolutely not." For some reason, her remark only fueled their guffawing. After what seemed like forever, she picked herself up off the floor, wiping away tears from her eyes. Nick was still buried in a couch cushion, his chest and stomach heaving with the effort of containing himself.

"The banana slippers would be a big hit at the bar." He said when he was finally able to speak. She wiggled her feet, watching the little tips bobble at the action.

"Yeah. They would have."

"So what's the matter?"

"Hm?" The shift in gears gave her a slight case of mental whiplash. Jess looked up from her slippers at his question. Nick had turned serious, though his eyes were still trained on the television. His head was propped up on one of Schmidt's throw pillows, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the brocade fabric. When she didn't respond right away, he rolled his gaze back towards her, and continued to patiently wait for the moment when she'd spill her guts.

"I think maybe I'm just having a quarter life crisis." She wearily lamented.

"Jess, you're thirty."

"Thirty is the new twenty five."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Cosmopolitan." She held the magazine up for his inspection. Girl's Night In required a Cosmo and Jess couldn't resist Christina Hendricks' amazing bust. Seriously, how did that girl get her boobs to stay like that? She also couldn't resist one of the only normal, non-sexual headlines: 'Thirty Is the New Twenty-Five; Or Surviving Your New Quarter Life Crisis.' Apparently Nick thought the same thing. He was staring intently, looking slightly confused, but in a good way.

"Ah."

"Anyway," Jess threw the magazine across the room, "My best friend is getting married in a month."

"A month? Isn't that a little quick?"

"Maybe a little. I don't know." Nick shifted uncomfortably. She could see his hands clenching nervously in his lap. This wasn't familiar territory for him. Deep conversation and exchanging of feelings were the monsters hiding under his bed. But, if she got him a beer, he'd drink and he'd listen. "I'm kind of thirsty. Do you want a beer?"

* * *

It took three beers and five glasses of pink wine before they returned to the subject. Jess had shed her banana slippers (Nick said he just couldn't take her seriously with them on), as well as her tutu. They'd shoveled her nail polish back into her boxes and piled their booze onto the table so they wouldn't have to travel very far. In addition to her two bottles of Moscato and his case of beer, they had dug out Schmidt's secret stash of premium vodka. After a failed attempt at a martini, and plenty of alcohol to make up for it, they were both sitting on the floor, half-watching Dirty Dancing and half-playing a rather unsuccessful game of Uno.

"Are you mad that Cece's getting hitched?" Nick asked after she threw a Pick 4 down.

"What? No, no. Not at all." Jess replied earnestly, though a bit slurred. "I'm so happy for her. She really wants to settle down and that's great."

"But?"

"What but?"

"There's a but in there somewhere." Jess was somewhat embarrassed when she giggled at that. But then, Nick did too, and she didn't feel as sophomoric anymore.

"I guess I thought I'd always be the one to get married first. Is that weird?" Nick shrugged. He took another chug of his beer and laid a card down.

"I don't know. Guys don't think about marriage until its staring them in the face."

"That explains a few things." She muttered. Unable to keep up the game, Jess threw her cards down, rolling her eyes when Nick moved to shield his eyes from seeing them. "I was always the one with the steady boyfriend and the reliable income and the stable household, you know? One dress and wedding ring away from being June Cleaver. Now, I'm thirty, living with three guys, teaching part time at a community college, and I'm single." By the time she ended she was somewhat breathless and her head had begun to pound. Jess took the liberty of pouring herself another glass. Nick, realizing the game had come to an end, relinquished the hold on his cards as well and focused his attention back to the television. What was it with guys and a LCD screen? They were like flies to a bug light.

"Yeah..." He offered unhelpfully.

"What about you?"

"Me?" There it was, that look of absolute terror he got whenever things got a little too serious. Jess nodded and motioned at him with her wine glass.

"Yeah, Miller. You. What did you think you'd be doing at thirty?" He juggled his words for a few moments, obviously a bit thrown at the question, until finally he threw his hands up and let out a strange snort.

"Honestly, I'm just happy I'm still alive."

"Oh no you don't. Do I need to break out those cramp tabs again? Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell. My life has no direction." He began to slide back towards the couch, obviously entertaining the notion of running. Jess was determined not to let him retreat.

"Bull shit." The cuss word stopped him in his tracks. She didn't swear often, and when she did, it was a sign that the gloves had come off. Nick stared at her surprised for a moment or two. They waged a silent battle for a few more minutes, ignoring the TV and their forgotten game of Uno, until Nick wavered. He was so weak.

"Alright. Alright, fine." He pulled his palms over his face, dragging his eyelids and his cheeks downwards as if doing so might enable him to shed his insecurity. "I thought I'd be living it up in a condo, working as a hotshot lawyer at some place downtown, and I'd drive a Mustang."

"A Mustang? What hotshot lawyer do you know who drives a Mustang?" She teased. Nick fixed her a withering glare.

"My fantasy, not yours."

"Fair enough. What about relationship-wise?"

"I guess I thought I'd be married, or engaged, or something close to that. Definitely didn't think I'd still be living with Schmidt." His mouth contorted into his signature, dramatic frown at the fact that he was, in fact, still living with Schmidt. Jess brushed it off. She knew they were both glad the other was still around, even if they were babies about admitting it.

"Maybe with Caroline?" She questioned carefully. Nick noticeably paused, the mouth of his beer bottle floating just in front of his lips, as he processed her question. After his almost-move out, it had gotten easier to bring her up in conversation. He didn't dissolve into an angry, sorrowful puddle of a man at the mention of her name. It was still a sore subject regardless. She could relate. Spencer was still a sore subject for her. It wasn't even because she loved him anymore, or had any kind of feelings left for him at all. It was just hard talking about the people who hurt you the most.

"Yeah, maybe." He said quietly. "It's weird looking back now. I thought about it proposing, I guess, but I never had plans to buy a ring. You talk to some guys and they plan that stuff for months and they say they've known for years. I never had that with Caroline. I figured if it happened, it happened. It just kind of seemed...inevitable."

"Inevitable?"

"Yeah. Like my life was on a course and I was just on the track along for the ride." He frowned and picked at his short, ragged nails. "Was that what it was like with you and asshat?"

"By asshat, you mean Spencer, right?" Nick made a face, which she took in the affirmative. "I guess. It didn't seem like it at the time, but yeah, it sounds familiar." They didn't speak for a long while, drinking and watching the end of the movie instead. It was the final dance scene, her favorite, and she took in the moment hungrily, determined not to think about Spencer and the whole debacle.

"Are you glad it didn't happen?"

"What?" Jess reluctantly turned away from the screen and brought her attention to Nick, who was watching her with dark, serious eyes. His attention was somewhat surprising. The earlier fascination he seemed to have with the tv was gone, for the moment, and his body had seemingly relaxed against the couch. He looked calm, reflective, a look that Jess was not used to seeing on his face.

"Are you glad that Spencer didn't work out? That you didn't marry him? Even after everything he put you through? Even if it meant you had to be alone for awhile?"

"Yeah." Jess answered without hesitation. "Yeah, I am. Sometimes, you're just too close to a situation to really see it, you know? He wasn't good for me. We weren't good for each other." They nodded in unison and reached for their glasses. "Do you feel that way about Caroline now?"

"Yeah." He didn't sound very convinced. "Do you remember when we first took you to the bar? You asked me why Caroline had dumped me."

"I do remember that. You were so much grumpier back then." She lightly goaded.

"Can't argue with you there. Anyway, I ended up asking her the next night. She told me she never knew how I felt about her until I broke up with her." Jess could understand that. There were so many times she wanted to know where she stood with him and had just resigned herself to never knowing. Even Schmidt and Winston were sometimes in the dark about their friend and his mood swings, for better or worse. After meeting Walt, she thought she had a bit better of an idea why he was so careful with his emotions. Why hadn't Caroline seen that? Didn't they have ever deep, late night conversations? Hadn't she met his parents in all the long while they dated?

"Did you love her?"

"I thought I did." He responded honestly.

"You never told her?"

"All the time. I guess telling someone you love them is different than showing them."

"Yeah. I guess." In the quiet moments that followed, Jess regarded Nick a little bit differently than she had before. The credits to Dirty Dancing rolled in the background and still he had not moved. He'd watched the entire movie with her without a single complaint. Granted, there was alcohol involved, but he'd been drunk when she tried putting in Coyote Ugly one night and she had never seen someone so vehemently veto a film. "Nick, do you like this movie?"

"I'm a sucker for Patrick Swayze. Have you ever seen Road House?" Nick said jokingly. She couldn't resist laughing as he mimicked punching someone's lights out, but she needed to know, so she repeated her question.

"Do you like Dirty Dancing? It's alright if you do. I promise I won't tell your bros."

"Bros is not a thing, Jess."

"Stop dodging the question!"

"Not really." The confession was quiet and she almost missed it, save for the somewhat guilty expression that accompanied it. She started to smile, but her lips froze when his admission started to sink in. "I don't really like this movie at all." It wasn't until her chest started to burn that she realized she had forgotten to breathe. It didn't feel like she was sitting on the floor. Instead, she had somehow started to float. They were staring at each other, neither saying a word, and Jess wondered what he would do if she jumped over the table and kissed him. She was staring at his mouth, his damn mouth, when suddenly he stood, bumping the table with his legs in his hurry.

"Where-"

"Bathroom break." And he was gone. Like lightning. If they could find a way to chase someone with personal demons and awkward moments at the gym, Nick Miller would be a track athlete. Jess inhaled deeply, letting the alcohol swim around her head, before leaning back into the cushions. The DVD had switched back to the main menu. She let it continue to play the theme on repeat while she tried to get a grip on herself.

Really, the idea of plowing through Uno cards and empty wine bottles to get her lips on Nick's sounded absolutely ridiculous. She chalked it up to the circumstances and the feelings their conversation drudged up. It was late and she was lonely and he was there watching a movie he hated just because she wanted to. Friends did that all the time. It was a thing friends did. It would be wrong to think it was anything other than a nice, friendly gesture.

When Nick returned, Jess chose to downplay the fact that he instantly began cleaning up their mess, taking her bottles and dirtied wine glass away without being asked or following her lead. She jumped up quickly to get his beer cans.

"Thanks." He murmured when she handed them over. He began to crush them with his bare hands, throwing them carelessly into the trash. She was just about to remind him aluminum was recyclable when Nick cursed softly and reached back into the garbage for the cans, looking for the recycling bin Schmidt kept beneath the island. "Sorry, I forgot."

"That's fine."

"So now what?" Jess jumped at his question.

"What now what?" Her words came out horribly jumbled and she winced at how her anxiety had tied her tongue. Nick noticed too. "Maybe no more alcohol?" He gently suggested.

"This is going to sound lame, but I think I might go to bed. Think about my life."

"Well, in that case, I'm going to go and make friends with my laptop."

"Ew." She was thankful for the comedic break. Their laughter made things less awkward. Nick finished crushing cans and Jess put away the Uno cards and her DVD, lightly chatting as they worked.

When their chores were done, they chuckled all the way back to their respective rooms about how shocked Schmidt would be when he finally managed to come home. Nick surveyed their handiwork once more through glassy eyes.

"It's almost worth being awake for." Then he yawned animatedly and Jess had to hold back another set of giggles.

"Almost. Good night, Nick." She said those fateful words before she really had any idea what she was doing. It was hard not to notice the way his eyes flashed when the sentence left her lips. No doubt he was remembering the last time they had been in this situation, not all that long ago. She definitely was. Again, she convinced herself the surge of need shooting through her system was just a by-product of her singleness. She was thirty and lonely and he was just as old and lonely as she was. Anyone could make the same mistake, experience the same confusion.

"Good night Jess." He breathed before backing into the safety of his room and closing the door. Jess was left alone in the hallway, perched just outside her own bedroom. The silence hung around her like fog, thick and heavy, until she snapped out of her reverie. It took her another moment to stop staring at his door, where his silhouette had once been, and another moment to back away. Just inside, she slid down against her door. A shaky sigh escaped her and she jutted the butt of her palms into her eye sockets, reveling in the bright splotches of color the pressure caused. Fireworks, she thought dimly.

'What are the odds that Nick is part of your quarter life crisis?' Her mind, talking in Cece's voice, taunted her. 'What if he's the key to everything?'

Nail polish was much safer, she huffily thought.

* * *

a/n: Short, sweet, something to fill the void while waiting for a new episode. :P Thanks to everyone who reviewed my last story! I'm so glad you all enjoyed it. This is a great show and a great fandom.


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